


Homecoming

by Aria_i_Adagio



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Family is complicated, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Multi, OT3, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: My sister's letter had been two pages, front and back both, to my half page.  The one I wrote a week after I finally went through the stack of old letters Asra had tucked away.  The ones I finally bright myself to read five years after I got my memories back.  An anxious half page: I am alive, and well enough, and I'm sorry that I never responded to the letters Mother and Dad sent at first.  Really, sorry.  But if the family would like to let me know how they're doing, if be happy to know, and if they don't, well, I understand.I almost didn't read Sophronia's letter past the first paragraph.  The one that ended with 'I'm sorry to tell you that Daddy passed away four years ago.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra/Julian Devorak
Kudos: 8





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this series of apprentice asks](https://the-soupiest-artist.tumblr.com/post/190291880111/family-apprentice-asks).

"This was a mistake." I fold my arms over my knees and rest my chin on them, watching Julian and Sasha splashing in the stream beyond where the horses have been tied.

"Hiring horses instead of traveling by magical creature? Absolutely." Asra sits down behind me with his legs on either side of mine and wraps his arms around mine. "The one from Nopal would have gotten us here in a few days. And loves to travel. Much better than horses."

"Julian was really excited about sailing though." Excited doesn't really begin to capture Julian's enthusiasm two months ago, when I mentioned offhand that oh, by the way, I may have sent a letter to my family. And my sister Sophronia responded, and she may have suggested that I should come back for a visit. 

Asra laughs softly, chin pressing against the top of my head. "He was. Talk to me, dear heart."

"I - the more I think about it, the more I'm sure this is all going to go to hell."

Sophronia's letter had been two pages, front and back both, to my half page. The one I wrote a week after I finally went through the stack of old letters Asra had tucked away. The ones I finally bright myself to read five years after I got my memories back. An anxious half page: I am alive, and well enough, and I'm sorry that I never responded to the letters Mother and Dad sent at first. Really, sorry. But if the family would like to let me know how they're doing, if be happy to know, and if they don't, well, I understand.

I almost didn't read Sophronia's letter past the first paragraph. The one that ended with 'I'm sorry to tell you that Daddy passed away four years ago.' She pivoted from there to describing her life married to the town blacksmith with a pack of five kids and the goings-on of various cousins. The final paragraph gloomily reported that 'Mother sends her love, but she's ailing. If you're going to come, Dema, make it soon.'

"Why not? It sounded like your sister at least wants to see you."

I groan. "If we turn right instead of left at this crossroad, there's a gorgeous valley about half a day's travel. We can make it before dark. Lots of waterfalls. Sasha will love it."

"Mmhm, sounds like something great to do. Maybe after we meet your family."

"Asra, you don't understand. It's not like Vesuvia here, at all. You're not supposed to leave. You're supposed to get married, have babies and reproduce the same damn community that's been here for ages."

"You've got the married with a kid thing down. Arguably you’ve got the married part down twice."

“That’s not what I meant.” I look back out at the stream. Julian has found a sturdy grapevine hanging from a tree and Sasha is using it to swing out over a pool and let herself drop in the water. She'll be showing up covered in mud. At least they'll know she's really mine that way. "Yeah . . . The idea is one wife, one husband, married before they're twenty, and possibly - depending on the priest's mood that year and whatever omens he's reading - paired off by fiat."

Asra's arms tighten around me. "I'm sorry you grew up like that."

"It wasn't  _ that _ bad." I've got no room to complain about childhood, not to Asra. Not when I had food in my stomach, and a roof over my head, and didn't need to fear when I went to sleep at night. "I mean, I think Da would have left except for Mother, so... But, ugh. I can imagine my sister now." I raise the pitch of my voice by a few notes and imitate Sophronia's speech as best I remember it. "So, uh, you've got two husbands, Dema. Is that normal where you live now?" I let my voice drop back to my usual range. "And no, clarifying that I have one husband and one spouse won't help."

"She'll take one look at Ilya and me and be jealous. Wanna bet on it?"

"Asra . . ." I groan. "Really, I'm worried. Like I don't think anyone is going to get violent. I wouldn't have even thought about coming if I did. But that doesn't mean they'll be pleasant."

Sasha comes running up the bank, soaked from head to toes. She holds out her tiny hand, shoving a fistful of flowering vines at the two of us. "Mama, what are these? Daddy doesn't know."

"Honeysuckle."

She nods, blue eyes big and solemn as she repeats the word. "Make me a flower crown, Asra. Please!"

Julian flops down on the grass beside me. His pants are rolled up to knees. Not that it did much good; he's almost as drenched as Sasha and only a touch less muddy. Asra disentangles himself from around me and takes the vines from Sasha. "Wait! Let me show you something." I pluck one of the blooms from the vine and break the end from the flower. "Stick your tongue out, baby."

Sasha blinks at me, then she does. I touch the broken end of the stem to her tongue. She gasps then giggles, closing get hands together. "It's sweet!"

"Yep. Like honey." I break off another flower for myself. They'll be plenty of others if Sasha needs them for a crown. Honeysuckle is a virulent stubborn weed. And one of the tiny delights of my childhood. I waited each spring for it to be warm enough for the honeysuckle to bloom and fragrance the night air. Then I'd pick the flowers and sip them daintily, pretending that I was a hummingbird, vibrantly feathered and just visiting until I would fly away elsewhere for the winter. I send Sasha away to pick more flowers; Asra reminds her to stay in sight.

"What are the two of you fretting about?" Julian's arms are folded behind his head. His shirt is nearly transparent and plastered to his chest where it's been thoroughly splashed with water. 

"Just nerves." Asra takes a blossom from me, smiling as he touches it to his tongue. 

"I'm rethinking this entire thing."

"Too late to turn back now."

"Nope. Could turn aside, could turn back."

"Darling.” Julian sounds sleepy. “Your sister invited us."

I lay down beside him, and stare up at the clouds passing through the sky. "I . . . I just. I'm worried everyone's going to be angry. They're going to reject me, reject us, and everyone gets hurt, and I don't want that."

"If that happens, we leave and Asra and I cuddle you for hours at the next opportune moment."

"I could just say I'm a family friend if that would -" Asra starts weaving together the greenery.

"No. Absolutely not.” I sit back up, legs crossed and elbows on my knees. “I'd rather this whole thing go to hell than do that."

"We  _ did _ talk about this already." Julian settles one hand on my thigh. "We ignore dirty looks and little verbal jabs. Anything outright or that Sasha is likely to pick up on, we leave."

"I know. I know." It'd been a long conversation. I'm just still not sure Asra or Julian understood. We're practically boring in Vesuvia, and Nevivon social mores are similar enough that no one thought twice. (Even if, as Julian likes to point out, there are no hungry orphans living on the street in Nevivon.) But home . . . Home is different and populated by people who’ve kept themselves isolated by choice. "I just . . ."

"Are you scared of being disappointed? Or of disappointing, love?" Asra settles the rough crown of greenery on my head.

"I'm -" Damn Asra and his good questions.

"Because I think now, that when we first got my parents back, I was mostly scared they'd be disappointed in me." His fingers run over my face, then begin working my hair into loose braids. "I know it's not exactly the same. I'd never had a falling out."

I'm quiet. Asra's hands keep working through my hair, and Julian's thumb is rubbing circles on the inside of my knee. "I'm not scared of disappointing my mother. Or my sister. Not exactly. I wish my father weren't dead though. Because they're going to use him. Going to say he'd be disappointed in me. And he might be, but well -"

"But he's the one who brought you to Vesuvia?" Julian sits up and takes both my hands in his, eyes intense. "Left you with his aunt, right?"

"Yes, but -"

"He thought you'd be better off with her, in a city like Vesuvia, not back here married to a blacksmith and doing what you're told." Julian kisses the back of my fingers. 

Asra ties off the end of the braid with a bit of ribbon and tosses it over my shoulder. "Doesn't that speak for him?"

Before I can respond, Sasha runs back to us, hands full of tiny white flowers and squealing with laughter. She pushes the flowers into Asra's hands and sprawls across my lap, hugging me with muddy arms. "Mama, when do I meet my other auntie?"

Julian winks at me. I roll my eyes at him and rub Sasha's back. "Not quite another hour on the horses, sweetie. It's not so far."

**Author's Note:**

> As a little challenge to myself, I'm trying to write some short fics.


End file.
